Straining to hear clearly what was never said.As a child of hope bread for this system of faith that is dead.
Pure for the purpose unfulfilled by the anguish.
Casting useless lots for parties my liberties to diminish.
Unfettered by worldly chains I know my soul heaven will gain.
Still for these hours here I tread listening to what wasn’t said.
Evil thoughts banishing righteous banter.
All sorts of fools standing as election fodder.
Still to hear what was not said leaves me with such dread.
Casting one lot for the end of times.
I’ll vote for the least recorded crimes.
Straining to hear clearly what was never said.
Democracy is nearly dead, had you not that here read!